


Hanging Out and Smok'n in Havana

by GinnyK



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s04e04 The Red Mass, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 03:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15110753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinnyK/pseuds/GinnyK
Summary: Post-epThe Red Mass





	Hanging Out and Smok'n in Havana

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

"JOSHUA," Donna bellows from her desk. 

"What?" I scream back, knowing the bullpen is mostly empty. Most everyone is at the Red Mass. 

I hear her sigh loudly and throw something on the desk, probably that self help book. She appears in my doorway, as I knew she would. 

"CJ just called, the President is taking a few questions about needle exchange and she said for us to go home." 

"Really?" 

"Yes, really. And what the hell is this?" she asks as she picks up Amy's balloon...thing. 

"I honestly have no idea." I admit as she hits me over the head with it. "Amy made it, she's been practicing." 

"Not too hard I hope," she snorts as I take it from her and hit her with it. "Let's get out of here." 

I stand up and start to pack my backpack while Donna untwists the balloon making that annoying noise. "Stop, you're hurting my ears," I hear myself say in a very whiny voice. 

"Oh stop whining," she says as she pokes me in the stomach with the balloon. "So you want to do something? We've been so busy lately we haven't hung out or anything." she says with this adorable, slightly shy look on her face. 

"We hung out for 20 hours trying to get back from Indiana. Aren't you tired of me already?" 

She mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "not really" as she turns to leave. 

"Wait, I was kidding. Look, I was just going to go home and watch the Mets try to throw some strikes. Why don't we just hang out at my place?" 

"Great, I suppose we'll need to pick up something to eat." she smirks, knowing the usual state of my refrigerator. 

"Unless you want YooHoo and pickles. Bring your little self help book." 

"Oh great, baseball and self help, what more could a girl ask for?" she sighs. "And for that, I get to pick the food. I'll be there in half an hour," she announces as she walks out of the room. 

Not in the mood to argue and knowing I won't win anyway I resign myself to probably eating veggie pizza. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

I've just gotten out of the shower when I hear Donna let herself in the door. 

"I'll be out in a minute," I yell as I pull on my pajama pants and a Bartlet 2002 t-shirt. 

Donna's in the living room wearing a pair of sweatpants and a very familiar Harvard sweatshirt. 

A vaguely familiar scent hits my noise as I enter the kitchen. Oh, she wouldn't have, I think to myself. Maybe she did. She moves out of the way so I can see the bag on the counter. I think I start drooling at the sight of the Golden Arches. YES, the nose was right, McDonald's. She hasn't let me have McDonald's in well over a year. 

"What's the occasion? Trying to kill me?" I smirked as I grab a fry out of the bag. 

"Well, your blood pressure's been good and ever since you mentioned McNuggets yesterday I've been craving them," she says with a laugh as she carries the bags to the coffee table. I grab the drinks; diet Coke for her and a vanilla shake for me. 

We settle on the couch with our food, a Big Mac and fries for me, McNuggets and fries for Donna. We watch the end of the Mets game, which involves seeing them blow a 4 run lead in the top of the 8th inning. By the time the game's over I am not a happy camper. So Donna feels the need to spend an hour enlightening me with life tips from Teddy Tomba. Which have made me feel vaguely sick to my stomach. Or that could have been my food plus the 3 chicken nuggets Donna gave me after she was full. 

I get up to wander around for minute. I'm a little stiff from sitting in one spot. Donna's rooting through her tote bag for something. 

"Yes, I did bring it," she yells triumphantly as she holds up a bottle of nail polish. 

I just give her a look. I thought it was an amused look but I guess not when Donna turns to me with that worried look on her face. "Are you ok? You're not going to throw up are you?" 

"I'm not great but I don't think I'm going to toss my cookies," I smirk as I hop up to sit on the counter. 

"You shouldn't have eaten those McNuggets," she says as she shakes the nail polish with one hand and opens the fridge with the other. She roots around for a minute and finds a can of ginger ale in the back. 

"Here, drink some of this." 

"Thank you Dr. Moss," I smirk as I hold out my hand for the soda. I take a couple of sips while Donna hops up on the counter next to me. All the seating that's available in my apartment and we choose to sit on the counter. Yeah, we're weird. She's about to open the nail polish when I hold my hand out for it. I figure I'll be nice and paint her nails for her. 

Yes, I know how to paint nails. Let's just say it got really boring when I was recovering and Donna and I watched Bull Durham way too many times. 

Donna looks at me strange again. "I already did my fingernails," she points out as she waves her hand at me. "I was going to do my toes." 

"Fine." 

She gives me an adorable grin and scoots back into the corner, sitting back against the cabinets. She hugs her knees to her chest and puts her heels on the counter and her toes on my thigh. I shake the bottle for a minute and then take a good look at the color. It's nice, sort of a deep, rich, rust color. 

"Smokin' in Havana." she says. 

"Huh?" 

"The name of the color, Smokin' in Havana." 

"Oh yeah," I mumble as I remember most of her nail polish colors have unique names. 

As I paint her nails we talk about my aspirations of becoming a major league baseball player. Those ended, not yesterday morning but one winter morning when I was 17 and my car skidded off the road into a ditch. After 4 hours of surgery my right arm was pinned back together. I never pitched seriously after that. 

OK, let's be honest, I wasn't making it to the majors anyway. I mean, how many Jewish starting pitchers are there? 

But my version sounds better, more manly. At least in my mind it did, Donna doesn't think so, she's laughing at me. 

"OK, you can locate the light switch and stop laughing at me any time now. Besides, I wouldn't make fun of me about now," I snort as I wave the nail polish brush a little too close to her nose. 

"Oh, you wouldn't do it. And besides you have nail polish remover in your bathroom." 

What? I'm not real good with crazy glue, that's why I have acetone in my bathroom. 

"There, done," I announce as I admire my work. 

"Looks good, thanks," 

I slide off the counter to pace for a minute while Donna puts her legs over the edge and swings her feet a bit to dry her nails. I put on some water for tea and stretch a little trying to loosen up my back. 

"Come here," she says with a smile. 

I walk over to her and she makes a little circle with her finger to get me to turn around. I do and stand with my back to her in between her knees. She takes a hold of my hips and pulls me a little closer. Her hands stay on my hips as her thumbs press into my lower back on either side of my spine. I sigh a lot louder than I anticipate and then laugh nervously although I'm not sure why. 

Sure, if someone saw us like this they'd get the wrong idea. To put it a little more bluntly, if Amy saw us she'd have a cow. But since I don't even know where we stand at the moment I don't particularly care. So I lean back a little into Donna's touch. She's hitting all the right spots. I close my eyes and am seriously considering the possibility that I am about to relax too much and fall down when Donna slips her hand under my shirt. 

"Oww," I yell as she pinches me right above my left hip. "What was that for?" 

"Two things, you were starting to sway a little and I didn't want you to end up on the floor." 

"And what would be number two?" I ask as I turn around to face her. 

She just looks at me and shakes her head until I realize the teakettle is whistling. 

"Ah, you want that green tea you brought over last week?" 

"Sure." 

We settle on the couch with our tea and Teddy Tomba. Our roles reverse as she reads aloud and I am left to do the notecards. I stretch out and try to get comfortable. Which leaves me with my head on the arm of the couch and my feet in Donna's lap. But she's not complaining. We work, drink our tea and make fun of Teddy. A while later I abandon my notecards and curl up a little. I'm really not feeling so great at the moment. 

"You OK?" asks Donna as she tosses the book aside. I shake my head a little. She pats my feet so I move them and let her up. She grabs the ginger ale I left in the kitchen. She comes back and lets me curl up with my head in her lap. It's nice and her running her fingers through my hair relaxes me. It's just one of those things....one of the things that happen frequently but we don't ever discuss. Like the way she rubs my back for me when I'm uncomfortable, the way I paint her nails for her, the fact that we each have a stash of clothes and other personal items at each other's apartments, how I let her borrow my heating pad on certain days of the month, the fact that I'm even aware of those days. Those things are just part of who we are. And those things are nobody else's business but our own. 

Donna clicks on the TV and turns the sound down low. Her touch relaxes me like nothing else ever does and I'm starting to doze with her gently rubbing my stomach. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

I wake up with a start, trying to recall where I am. Oh yeah, at home on the couch, alone. The clock on the VCR tells me it's a little after 3. So I haul myself off the couch and head for the bathroom. I'm feeling better and I'm sure I'll be fine after a few more hours sleep. As I get to the bathroom the door to the cabinet under the sink is open a little so I kick it shut and as I do I look at my feet. 

Oh, I'm going to kill her! My toenails are a lovely shade, Smokin' in Havana, to be exact. I can only assume the cabinet was open cause she forgot to close it when she stole the acetone. 

Yeah, I was right. 

But at 3 in the morning I don't care so much. It's not like it's the first time she's painted my nails. So I head for bed to dream up some revenge. 

THE END 


End file.
